


Smokes Astras

by GioseleLouise



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GioseleLouise/pseuds/GioseleLouise
Summary: “Vic, are you going to help me?”Jean finally glances back at him, composed, “Help you? With what, Harry?” His grey eyes catch the sunlight, like they’re winking at a joke Harry doesn’t understand.He's enjoying himself. And he’s really going to make Harry spell it out.—Harry is jealous of Jean and Kim’s friendship.
Relationships: Harry Du Bois & Jean Vicquemare, Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	Smokes Astras

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Rathma for having good opinions and for being awesome.

Harry didn’t expect detectives to answer calls for disorderly conduct. But he also didn’t expect to be staring at a dick at 11AM. Not a dick belonging to a living person, and especially not one belonging to a local politician. Fortunately, this politician seems to be a recurring problem for his partner - which means Jean came prepared.

“I’m sensing a pattern here, Mr. Baudet, so let’s run this at triple speed. We ask you to stop harassing the church next door. _Again_. You decline. _Again_. This continues until we eventually arrest you. You get suspended from your job in Jamrock Hall. The police report goes public. You get fired and finally, disgraced in a news column everyone laughs at,” Jean sighs, “So stop harassing the church.”

“I’m not harassing the church, Officer Vicquemare.”

“ _Mr_. _Baudet_ ,” He exclaims in false exasperation, although it’s hard to tell with Jean sometimes. “Did you listen to me?”

The politician’s genitals are wrinkly and baggy in summer’s midday heat; He chafes under Harry’s focused scrutiny and pushes the door so it bisects his body. Tilts his hips so his groin is hidden.

“Officers, I am not harassing the church - I’m exercising my basic rights! I have fought very hard for what little civil liberties we have in this city and I have the freedom to behave how I want in my house. Is it not the right of every man and woman of Revachol to-”

“Sir, there are children in the church courtyard,” interrupts Jean, “Can you keep your blinds closed?”

“And skulk around the darkness? Officer, this is prime Couron real estate and I paid _premium_ to get south-east facing windows so I may enjoy the sun and…”

Harry senses his partner is losing his patience talking to this naked man and his awkwardly positioned door. It’s time for the big guns.

“Mr. Baudet, have you inspected your testicles lately?”

Jean goes into a coughing fit to hide his laughter as the politician glares wide-eyed at Harry, “ _Excuse me_?”

“I noticed a sizable bulge on your testicle. Our lazareth can take a look at it once you’re at the station.”

“Wait, what? There's no _bulge._ Are you bringing me in?”

Sensing the gambit, Jean chimes in, “As I mentioned, Mr. Baudet, if you continue behaving this way, we will arrest you.”

“But I haven’t done anything illegal!”

“I’m sure that can get sorted out eventually,” says Harry, “Maybe after a day or two. But there will be a record of jail time. On the plus side,” he adds, “You will have your testicle looked at.”

Mr. Baudet looks between them, disturbed, “Fine. I will put a robe on. Are we done?”

The door slams, and Harry’s partner turns to him, expression caught between amusement and dismay, “ ‘ _Have you inspected your testicles lately?’_ What the fuck? Also you had to say _that_ word 50 fucking times?”

“It closed the deal,” Harry counters, “Worked, didn’t it?”

“It always does with you. Somehow.” Jean’s features cloud; he wants to be annoyed at Harry and is annoyed at himself that he’s not. He gives up and sighs, expression softening, “Did Kitsuragi ever tell you about the streaker from the 57th?”

Kim did not tell Harry this story. They’ve been seeing less and less of each other lately; Kim has stepped up so Harry can focus on sobriety. Which meant that Kim is spending more time with Jean: going on calls with Jean, driving around Jamrock with Jean, doing paperwork with Jean. It’s well meaning. And fucking annoying. Especially since the two seem to get along so well.

They reach the stairwell, where two flights of stairs stand between them and the ground floor.

“I don’t remember, but I’m sure he did,” Harry lies, “Kim tells me so many stories - it’s so hard to keep track of them all!”

“No, this one is fucking hilarious,” Jean cuts in front of him and glides down the stairs, “Like piss-your-pants, die on the floor, _hilarious_. You couldn’t forget it if you tried - ask him to do the voices if you can convince him to tell you.”

Harry bites back his bitterness as he follows Jean downstairs.

He is still learning to keep up in Precinct 41. Literally. Jean is used to him _fast_ ; wanted Harry to tear into Jamrock like a bullet after his return from Martinaise. It was fine at first, but at four months sober Harry's vices have finally caught up to him. Ass-kicking karmic retribution is exacting its vengeance on his body and Harry can barely keep up, especially on a sweltering day like this.

But if Harry didn’t keep up, Kim and Jean would be picking up his slack. _Together_. So here he was.

His partner is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, expression not unkind, “Need a break?”

They rest under a tiny storefront awning, shadow barely covering the tops of their heads. Jean pulls out a pack - _Astra, he switched to Kim’s brand_ \- offers it, then catches himself.

“Do you have your light?”

It’s a relic that his therapist advised keeping; maintain the ritual while avoiding the practice. She was right - it gave him an excuse to be around Jean and Kim when they relaxed. Made him feel like he wasn’t losing everything. Harry eyes the pack in his friend’s hand and some small, insistent part of him yearns to embrace the same vice as Kim Kitsuragi. To breathe the same crappy tar infused air as Kim Kitsuragi. To infringe upon the web of commonality between these two men, a web that has been growing and spreading like cancer.

“Yeah,” Harry offers the lighter; serious, “Wanna swap?”

That earns him a glare. Jean leans in, lighting the stick and filling the air with the scent of a man Harry is trying very hard not to miss. Then his partner throws a curve ball.

“What do you think of Kim?”

“Huh,” Harry’s tongue stumbles over itself, “Uh, he’s alright, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Jean exhales, _Astra_ smoke surrounding them like fog, “He’s alright. Good guy. Great fucking detective.”

Harry clutches the lighter tight to keep from fidgeting, “Sure.”

“You used to not shut up about him.” Jean tilts his head, waiting; anticipating Harry’s pointless rambling.

“I, uh, I’ve been trying to stop.”

“Mission accomplished. Anyway, he and I talked this morning - we’re working the next case.”

 _We’re working the next case._ The thought flips Harry’s stomach. They want to spend _more_ time together?

“Cool,” Harry croaks. And Jean reacts to the edge in Harry’s voice. “Awesome. Yeah. Go ahead. Since you guys are best fucking friends now.”

The other man groans. “Harry, you’re too old for this passive aggressive shit. If you want to suck Kim’s-” like blinds coming down at dusk, Jean’s expression goes from irritated to unreadable in the blink of an eye.

If Harry had a real for every time he stumbled upon a conclusion that Jean Vicquemare had already realized, he’d be a goddamn millionaire. Harry may be the human can opener, but Jean always had a knack for putting the pieces together. It’s what made them great partners.

“ _Okay_ ,” is all he says, before looking away, but not before Harry catches his lips curling up.

“Okay?” repeats Harry, apprehensive.

Jean doesn’t respond. And dammit if this shit isn’t just like the Whirling-In-Rags. When Jean wore that ridiculous disguise and Harry couldn’t figure out a goddamn thing.

“Vic, are you going to help me?”

Jean finally glances back at him, composed, “Help you? With _what_ , Harry?” His grey eyes catch the sunlight, like they’re winking at a joke Harry doesn’t understand.

He's enjoying himself. And he’s really going to make Harry spell it out.

“Help me…,” Harry swallows, and it takes all the bravado of a Lieutenant-Double-Yefreitor for the next words to come out with a straight face, “With Kim. Because I like him.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Jean’s expression says _whatever_ , but his eyes remind Harry of a coiled snake. Pure mirth and thousands of teasing comments rippling under the surface, ready to strike. Something’s shifted; like their terrible past took another small step backwards to make room for this. Jean is going to rip into him later and Harry would be horrified if he wasn’t so fucking ecstatic.

The past is as intangible for Harry as it’s always been, but their relationship has been feeling more and more correct.

Jean tosses his cigarette in an ashtray and nods towards the direction of their Kineema. _After you._ And they go forward. Walking and discussing Jean and Kim’s case - now _Harry_ and Kim’s case - and how they can officially turn it into Harry and Kim’s case. Revachol lives and breathes around them, sun-kissed and hectic.

And despite his neutral expression throughout it all, Harry can’t shake the feeling that Jean is laughing at him.

**Author's Note:**

> Just needed some fluff for these two. Always thought Jean and Kim would hit it off after Kim’s transfer and Harry would be a 3rd grader about it all. Especially if Harry had a crush on Kim.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Come say hi @ giosele.tumblr.com


End file.
